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NEW - This Week's Featured Poetry (x4)

THE PLATE

By Sophia Uhlmann 

As the kitchen was illuminated with light,

Something specific was brought to attention

A round shaped, white object danced in the sun,

Attempting to brush off the final wet droplets from its edges

It glimmered with hope and possibility

Of what the daylight might bring

As I danced my way around the counter,

I plucked up the utensil

With which I used to spread my masterpiece upon

Bright colors of prickly sweet fruits,

Smooth layers of peanuts,

And darkened, rich melted cocoa

Eagerly took over the once empty space

The object happily took on these new additions,

Knowing that it would heal my heart

And enrich my day for what is to come

It didn’t know at the time

That it should have savored it while it had lasted

It didn’t know that,

When I found the numbers that fought to make their way to my sight,

I would gaze down at my skin,

Wondering why it wasn’t stick thin

It didn’t know that, although it was innocent,

I would blame the object for its doings,

To make my clothes feel tighter,

My comparisons higher,

And my vision magnified

It didn’t know that, for the very first time,

It would be shut into a cupboard instead,

Being stolen away from the very light that made it glimmer

As the next few months passed,

The object had lost all of its faith,

It knew now of its new use

After being shut away in darkness,

It was only brought out in the late hours

When the sun had already gone to sleep,

And the moon was the only one out to notice its despair

Only a dim light was flashed above,

Where I weakly threw on the only things that made my mind quiet,

Yet my body yearning

Dark colored greens,

Eggs turned completely white,

And colorless meats,

That huddled to one side,

As if they were scared to take up more room than they needed to

The white space was now the primary sight to one's eyes

Although now, space was especially exaggerated,

With it representing all of the emptiness it beheld,

Not the possibility of fullness it proclaimed before

After the contents was hungrily scraped off,

It was only cleansed with droplets

Coming from my cold blue vision,

Unlike the familiar warm basin splashes from before

Then, it tried to further wash itself clean after being locked away,

With its own tears,

Only visible to the dark shadows that chose to take pity

As the object was slowly awoken to the sounds of footsteps,

It wondered how it was already the next evening,

That was when it discerned,

Carefully studying the golden rays seeping through the crevices,

That the sun was in fact rising, not sinking

The one thing that it so longed to see again with its own eyes

Suddenly, a cold hand turned warm upon its touch,

Opened up the cupboard,

Softly grabbing at the brim

That was when it saw, for the first time in what felt like ages,

A slight smile accompanied by an old friend

The sunlight that it so missed

Being placed upon the counter,

It was then freshly rinsed with natural droplets,

Not the kind caused by open wounds invisible to the naked eye

It was softly dried anew by the lemon hues,

Feeling as if it was meeting a new pair of hands wiping it across

Then, unexpectedly,

It felt the same prickles it had dreamed about feeling again

Meet its bare surface

It felt the same warmth and familiar spread of a substance,

That it knew would provide tenderness,

Unlike the rawness pushed out before

It could feel the smile from my lips,

As I polished it clean

And it could make out the laughter from my voice,

As I happily engaged with the daylight,

Catching up on what I had missed

Afterwards, the object expected to have to dry itself,

Readying its spirits to be sealed away again

Except, unlike any other time before,

It was placed within sight of the bright gleams of light,

As well as the visitor entering

Although, it now understood the recurring visitor

Even better than the sun

It knew this would be temporary,

Soon it would be fully returned to the suns sparkles again

But right now,

It needed to serve as a reminder to the visitor more than ever

Not a reminder to be shut away,

But instead to use it with intention,

To fill it with dreams and desires,

Never to decrease their line of sight when glancing down

Soon, I would naturally do that

But for now, I needed the object as a cue more than ever

And as I made my way out of the sacred place,

Filled with joy, hurt, and contentment all at once

I could feel something behind me twinkling

The familiarity and change coming off from the object simultaneously,

The Plate.

ABOUT SOPHIA: Sophia is a freshman at Appalachian State University and is majoring in Cell/Molecular Biology with a double minor in Chemistry/Math. Sophia also loves to creatively write poems, prose, and newspaper articles, and is currently a part of the poetry committee in "The Peel" and the Arts & Culture section in "The Appalachian" at Appalachian State. She was also the Head Staff Writer in high-school for the Newspaper / Creative writing club.